


Son, My Son

by spacemonkey766



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Between Episodes, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e19 Back to Normal, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Barry Allen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Minor Barry Allen/Iris West, Protective Iris West, Protective Joe West, Torture, post-episode: s02x19 back to normal, pre-episode: s02x20 Rupture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey766/pseuds/spacemonkey766
Summary: Without even a moment to process life without his powers, a sick day at home turns into a day for Barry that has him questioning the universe's timing when a man comes looking for revenge on Joe. Barry's limits are tested, Joe's love is questioned, and the two aren't sure how they're going to make it out of this one unscathed, physically or emotionally. [Takes place right after 2x19 and before 2x20]





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> title inspiration and lyrics are from “Son My Son” by Milo Greene.

“I’m fine Iris, I promise,” Barry said, phone tucked between his chin and shoulder as he pulled on his navy sweatpants with the CCPD logo at the upper front pocket. “It’s just a sinus infection. Stuffed nose, cough, congestion, headache, ya know all the fun stuff.” He held the phone in one hand while he grabbed a pair of striped socks. Tucking the phone between his head and shoulder again, he alternated bouncing on each of his feet to pull his socks on.

“I can’t really complain. It’s the first real cold I’ve had since I got my speed and now that I don’t have that, the universe is catching up. Or rather, allergy season is.”

Putting it on speaker as Iris talked, he placed the phone down on his unmade bed briefly as he ran a towel through his short brown hair, leaving it sticking up in damp tufts before tossing the towel into the nearby hamper. He had just taken a long, hot shower, hoping the warm water and steam would make him feel a little better. He looked at the compression bandage laying on the bed and brought a hand to his side. He was still sore but the bruising on his ribs had gone down in the last few days since his run-in with Griffin Grey after he took Harry. Barry decided against rewrapping them and just pulled on a gray Star Labs t-shirt over his head. 

“I’m just taking the day off from work to get some rest and slow down a bit now that I don’t have a choice,” he said into the phone after picking it up again. Barry pulled the phone away as he was racked with a coughing fit, quick to calm down a worried Iris as he brought it back to his ear. “I’m fine, Iris. Yes, I’m eating. I’m going downstairs now to have some Oatmeal and chill on the couch. Yes, I’ll call if I need anything. Bye.” 

Barry smiled as he hung up the phone before his body was wracked with another cough. He missed having the Speed Force in his system as much as he missed his actual speed. Like his accelerated healing and increased metabolism, his body ran through illnesses very quickly, none lingering for more than a couple hours. This was day three and Barry realized being sick was not something he missed at all about normal life. 

He sent a quick text to Cisco telling him to call if they needed anything and that he’d be by later. Cisco responded with ‘JUST REST DUDE’. He pocketed the phone as well as a white handkerchief for his stuffed nose, chuckling briefly before it too turned into a cough. Before Barry left the room, he grabbed his watch from off his nightstand, fastening it around his left wrist, before leaving his room to head downstairs. With the exception of when he was in his Flash uniform, Barry always wore the watch. It had once belonged to Joe, a gift from his Joe's father when he was a young man that Joe had thoughtfully gifted to him this past Christmas. The gift meant more to Barry then he could express at the moment he received it and was his most treasured possession. 

Barry got to the bottom of the stairs when he heard his phone’s text tone go off from his sweatpants pocket. Just as he slid his hand in to retrieve it, one of the shadows erupted with sudden movement and Barry found himself being slammed forward into the wall. His attacker wrapped an arm around him and pinned his own right arm, hand still in his pocket, down to his side. He used his body to push Barry up against the wall and snaked his left arm up and clamped a hand over his mouth. 

“Mmppphhhhh!!” Barry shouted from behind the hand, trying to pry at the arm holding him with his free hand as he struggled and twisted in his attacker's grip.

“Don’t struggle,” a voice whispered in his ear. “I didn’t come here for you so make it easier on yourself,” the man hissed in Barry’s ear. Barry tried to turn his head away but the hand at his mouth was holding him firmly in place.

Barry twisted his body to try and throw his attacker off, but the hold was too tight. Barry swung his free arm up and back and was satisfied when he hit solid flesh and heard his attacker swear. It didn’t slow his attacker down though as he arched his back and lifted Barry slightly up off the ground, holding him close to his body and slamming him hard against the wall once more, pinning him, not giving Barry any leverage. 

“I’m sorry you had to be involved in what’s coming to Joe West,” the man’s voice growled into his ear. Barry tried to protest through the hand covering his mouth, his breath coming in sharp gasps, shaking his head from side to side to throw it off, but the grip over his mouth was too tight.

Suddenly the hand came loose from over his mouth and Barry was quick to act, swinging his head back, connecting hard with his attacker’s face. Barry tried to wriggle free from the arm still wrapped around his torso and arm but a clenched fist smashed against his head and Barry’s vision blurred for a moment. Disoriented, he was thrown free and pushed hard to the ground. It was enough to wind him, only able to land a kick to his attacker’s gut before his attacker swung at him, his fist connecting with Barry’s mouth, splitting his bottom lip and knocking him down. The man was instantly on top of him, knees digging into his arms, pinning him to the ground. The last thing Barry saw was a blurry figure lift his arm and backhand him with the butt of a gun across his left temple before the world went black.


	2. Your testing is calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Son, my son  
> The weight is unique  
> One, by one  
> The words are complete  
> Your testing is calling  
> And we are still falling

Detective Joe West sighed as he slowly made his way up the path leading to his front door. Once again, all the lights were on throughout the house in the middle of the afternoon. Joe wasn’t a strict man, a diligent father yes, but he really didn’t demand much from his kids, even less now that they were both fully grown adults. But the damn electric bill was a killer, especially with the power surges caused by Barry's lightning as he entered and left the house in a flash at super speed. Although there would be less of that now.

Iris was at work and longer lived with them, although that didn’t stop her from spending time at the West family home. Wally was, or at least supposed to be, at class. That left Joe’s eldest and adopted son. Usually, Barry was rarely home in the afternoon, spending most of his time at work at CCPD, STAR Labs or running around Central City. Today, however, Joe had encouraged Barry to stay home from work and avoid STAR Labs if he could. It’d been just about a week now without his speed after giving it to Zoom to save Wally and, all things considering, he was handling it well; better than Joe expected and he was proud of Barry for it. But the young man had gotten sick for the first time in two years, the lack of speed force coursing through his body leaving him vulnerable and after some forceful urging by both Joe and Iris, Barry had decided to just take the day to rest. 

Joe had opted to take a half day himself and spend some much-needed downtime with Barry, something they didn’t get a lot of. He had stopped at the deli they frequented by Jitters, clutching the brown paper bag with chicken soup for Barry and a Chicken Parm hero for himself. Sighing again as he climbed up the steps, Joe decided he wouldn’t give Barry a hard time about the lights, even in jest. Perspective. Barry had enough on his plate, they all did.

“Hey, Barr!” Joe called out as he entered the house, closing the door behind him. Receiving no response, Joe hung up his coat, kicked off his shoes and called out again as he moved deeper into the house. Stepping down into the living room Joe’s blood ran cold as he looked to the dining room, dropping the brown paper bag to the floor. 

Barry sat at a chair beside the dining room table, facing the living room, wrists bound in front of him, ankles bound together, a thick piece of cloth pulled between his teeth and tied behind his head gagging him. 

What shook Joe to his core though, what stopped him from pulling his gun from the holster at his side, was the man standing behind Barry, leaning over him menacingly with a hand wrapped tightly around Barry’s neck, his other hand pointing a pistol at Barry’s temple. Barry was panting heavily through his nose, his breathing restricted by the tight hand at his neck, and although his green eyes were wide, Barry didn’t show the fear Joe knew he was feeling.

“How nice of you to join us, Detective,” the man spoke, smirking at Joe as the man stopped in his tracks.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Joe skipped past the cop bravado, the sight of a gun pressed to Barry’s head the only thing he could focus on. 

“I make no promises, West,” the stranger snarled, tightening the hand around Barry’s neck slightly, causing Barry to moan around the gag in discomfort. “But if you would place your holster and weapon onto the couch and come sit down over here, I will leave Mr. Allen here alone for the time being. And please keep in mind, West, that this bullet will exit his brain faster than yours could even hit me if I see you try to reach for your gun.”

Joe shrugged off the shoulder holster, never tearing his eyes from Barry and the man threatening him. As Joe held the holster in his hand, he winced as the stranger pressed the tip of the gun harder against Barry’s temple. Barry clenched his eyes closed at the pressure, quickly breathing through his nose as he tried to calm his rising fear. Joe dropped the holster and weapon onto the couch and slowly walked towards the table. 

"Very good, Detective. Now have a seat at the head of the table please.” As Joe moved to sit where he was instructed he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of relief as their attacker released his hold around Barry’s neck and pulled the gun away from his head. He wasn’t surprised when the man came and grabbed Joe’s arms and pulled them behind the back of the chair, binding them with a zip tie. Joe kept his eyes on Barry, giving the young man a once-over now that the immediate threat of the gun to his son’s head was gone.

Barry was dressed in navy sweatpants and a grey S.T.A.R. Labs t-shirt. Plastic zip ties bound his legs together at the ankles and just above his knees. His hands were zip-tied tightly wrist to wrist in front of him and another zip tie linked through them and connected to the tie at his knees, creating a small taught chain that didn’t allow Barry to lift his hands from where they lay in clenched fists atop his knees. One large zip tie stretched around his chest and over his upper arms, restraining him to the chair back while a second wrapped over his torso and at the bend of his elbows to the back of the chair. A thick black cloth that Joe now recognized as one of Iris’ scarves from the coat rack was wrapped over his mouth and stretched between Barry’s teeth twice, tied tightly behind his head, cleaving his mouth open enough that Barry’s lips barely touched each other over the fabric. Joe could see the corners of the white fabric of Barry’s handkerchief peeking out the edges of the scarf by the young man’s split bottom lip, and Joe knew that Barry’s mouth was packed too, gagging the boy terribly. A gash at hairline that was no longer bleeding but still shiny with drying blood had dripped down the left side of Barry’s face.

Joe hissed as the plastic bit into his own ankles as the stranger used two zip ties to bind each of Joe’s ankles to the corresponding front chair legs. His eyes tracked the man as he wound two large zip ties across his torso and behind the chair, pinning Joe to the wood frame.

“Who are you? What do you want with me and my son?” Joe demanded.

“Name's Cal. I’m hurt you don’t recognize me, West. Although in all fairness I was only 16 when you came to my house and arrested my father in front of me.” His attacker glared as confusion remained on Joe’s face instead of recognition. “How can you not remember the worst day of my life?”

“I’ve been a cop for over 20 years, kid. I’ve seen a lot of people on the worst day of their life,” Joe’s tone was hesitant, respectful of the man’s clear pain but angry at the predicament they were in. He didn’t want to piss this guy off; he had to keep it steady if he and Barry were going to get out of this. Their attacker was easily in his early 30’s, so whenever this arrest had happened it was probably in the early years of his career at CCPD. 

“Well, it was about eighteen years ago. My father was just a patsy in a few bank heists, the getaway car guy most times. But one heist went wrong, someone died, and they all got locked up. Twenty years in Iron Heights.” Joe watched their attacker speak as he circled the table to move to the other side, sitting adjacent to Joe and directly across from where Barry was forced to sit. 

“I remember that,” Joe nodded “Jansen.”

“Hansen,” the man glared at Joe as he corrected him. “My father was Malcolm Hansen.”

“Was?” Joe asked.

“He died last week after losing a battle to colon cancer. After eighteen years of rotting away in prison, he died just two years short of a twenty-year sentence he didn’t deserve.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, son,” Joe genuinely apologized but couldn’t help but jump slightly in the chair as their attacker slammed his fists on the table.

“Don’t call me son,” Cal’s voice raised, his tone heavy and menacing. “I don't want your goddamn sympathy. I want my father’s last years back with him.”

He stood from the table and circled around, coming to stand behind where Joe sat, placing his hands on Joe’s shoulders, squeezing them hard enough to elicit a pained noise from Joe. Barry shouted something unintelligible behind the gag at their captor, eyes piercing daggers, before quickly turning into a coughing fit, smothered by the fabric in the mouth.

“Shut up,” Cal moved to behind where Barry sat and thread his fingers through Barry’s hair, grabbing hold and yanking back, straining Barry’s neck.

“Please, leave him alone,” Joe begged. 

“The kid doesn’t shut up. That’s why he’s gagged,” Cal yanked again, Joe watching as Barry’s adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed in pain from his stretched neck. “Kept going on and on about how you’re a good man, I won’t get away with it, blah blah blah.”

“Please. It’s clear you want revenge for your father’s loss. But you have me now, let my son go,” Joe tried to reason with him, ignoring Barry’s smothered protest at the idea. Cal released his grip on Barry’s hair, giving a light shove of his head forward as he did.

“Ya know, West, he’s not your kid,” Cal moved to stand in front of where Joe sat, bending down to meet eye to eye with his captive. “I know the story, done my research on you. This is some kid whose dad you also locked up. But this kid’s story was so pathetic you took pity on him and took him in ‘cuz he had no one. But his father was released. Mine died in prison. You were wrong about his dad and you were wrong about mine.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” Joe kept his voice steady as he kept his eyes locked with the man in front of him. “But your father was a criminal.”

Joe barely finished the sentence before he was punched in the face. Before the second punch landed, Joe could hear Barry’s muffled shouts at Cal. After a third hit, Cal stopped and slowly came to stand, hovering over Joe as he recovered, spitting out blood to the floor.

“Ya know what, this isn’t as satisfying as I hoped it would be,” Cal moved to stand behind Barry now, eyes never leaving Joe. “All I’m doing is upsetting the kid who, let’s be honest, is innocent in all this. I mean he wasn’t even supposed to be here.”

“Please let him go then, Cal,” Joe pleaded.

“Unfortunately I can’t do that, West,” Cal smiled as the man ruffled Barry’s hair before heading into the kitchen, talking all the while. “I’m here to make you pay, make you suffer. The unexpected guest in our long overdue conversation presents a unique opportunity. And I’ve got it figured out now that before I kill you, the best way to make you suffer is through what is most important to you.” 

“No,” Joe said, pulling at the zip ties, ignoring the pain as they tightened around his wrists as Cal returned to stand behind Barry, a roll of duct tape in his hand. 

“I mean it’s a shame to have to hurt the kid. But it’s a means to an end,” Cal chuckled as Barry craned his neck to stare up at him. “To make you suffer, I’m gonna have to have a little fun with Barry here.”

“Hansen, please,” Joe tried.

“See the thing about zip ties is if you pull the wrong way, they can tighten and cut off circulation. That’s why they're such an effective restraint. Duct tape, however, not as restrictive as zip ties but still, you can have a lot of fun with it. Wanna see, Detective?” Cal tore off a tiny inch of duct tape off the roll. He then placed the square of tape directly over Barry’s nostrils.

Barry hadn’t had a moment to process before his captor descended on him swiftly. Panicked, Barry shook his head, letting out a strangled scream behind the gag, his eyes widening in fear as his air was cut off. Barry yanked at the restraints, pulling desperately at the tie that linked his wrists to his knees, body arching upwards against the ties binding him to the chair. There'd been no time to inhale.

“Stop!” Joe shouted as Barry writhed in the chair, unable to breathe for about thirty seconds before Cal removed the tape. Barry deeply inhaled those first crucial breaths through flaring nostrils. With his mouth still gagged tightly, all he could draw breath though was his nose, his chest, and abdomen heaving desperately. He panted through his nose but just as his breathing slowed down, Cal replaced the tape over his nose. Barry squirmed and arched frantically as much as he could restrained to the chair. 

A groan emanated from his throat, trailed by soft muffled grunts within his sinuses as the membranes made contact with one another, craving for sustenance. He felt his head spin and could hear his own heartbeat rushing into his ears over the sound of Joe calling out for their attacker to stop. He fought to twist his head free from the oppressive tape over his nose or the cloth blocking air through his mouth but succeeded only in exhausting the oxygen in his system. After forty-five seconds, Cal pulled the tape off. 

He cruelly waited for Barry’s breathing to return to normal before once again placing the tape back over Barry’s nose. Barry’s eyes squeezed shut, head shaking back and forth, desperately trying to toss off the tape. His fisted grip weakened; his eyes blinked rapidly.

“Hansen, please!” Joe cried. “You’re killing him!” 

Finally, the tape was removed and Barry gasped beneath the gag and tried to pull in as much air as he could through his nose. He inhaled deeply, panting through ragged breaths, unable to gain control of his breathing, his stuffed nose hindering him from getting enough air into his starved lungs. A small grunting noise came from behind the gag as Barry’s eyes grew heavy and closed, tears spilling over onto fever-flushed cheeks.

“Please, Cal!” Joe pleaded as he watched Barry try to gain control of his breathing, the young man unable to pull in enough air to his starving lungs. “He has a sinus infection and can’t catch his breath! Please take the gag off before he passes out!”

Cal watched Barry struggle for air through his nose, face red, head spinning from lack of oxygen as the edges of his vision began to close in, his eyes rolling back. Cal finally moved behind Barry’s chair and loosened the knot in the scarf tied through his jaw. With a less than gentle hand, Cal grabbed the thick roll of cloth and ends of the wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth and pulled it free from Barry’s mouth. 

Barry immediately gasped, inhaling deeply and choking through his mouth, able to pull deep lungfuls of air in now that the gag was gone. His body then folded within itself, hunching in the chair as a coughing fit overtook him before he tried to drag in more air. Joe watched as Barry panted and gasped for several moments as he got his breathing under control.

“Barr,” Joe called out. “Barr, talk to me.” 

“I’m okay, Joe,” Barry rasped, gasping between words, head hanging as he focused on drawing in slow, deep breaths. “I’m okay.”

“I’m gonna let you two have a moment as I take care of my own needs,” Cal began to head down the hall towards the bathroom. “But when I come back, the gag goes back in and the fun continues.”

“Barry, we’re going to get out of this,” Joe ducked his head, eyes willing for Barry to look up at him. “Barr, look at me."

“I’m sorry, Joe,” was all Barry said, eyes closing. He waited until he heard the door down the hall close before he continued. “Of course this happens now. If I had my speed, I could have stopped him; could have stopped this.” 

“Barry, this isn’t on you, it’s on me,” Joe’s voice was stern, willing his son to believe his words. Barry shook his head slightly, refusing to look up at Joe.

“I should have been able to prevent this. I should have been able to keep you safe. I’m useless without my speed. I can’t stop Zoom, I can’t help Caitlin, I can’t even stop a stupid break-in,” Barry said, looking over his shoulder, hearing the bathroom noises from the other side of the house as Cal helped himself.

“It’s not your job to keep me safe, speed or no speed. It’s my job to keep my kids safe,” Joe said, knowing though he wasn’t going to be able to cut through Barry’s ever-present guilt at this moment. “Barry, look at me.” Barry finally met Joe’s eyes, jaw clenched. “We’re going to get out of this like we always do.”

Seeing the hollow look in Barry’s eyes jarred Joe. Maybe it was the illness, maybe it was the loss of the powers he’d come to think of as a vital part of him like his heart or his mind, but Joe recognized that defeated look. The young man usually radiated hope and optimism, but in his dark moments, many in which Joe experienced with him, all the losses in Barry’s life seemed to outweigh all the light. 

“At least it was me that was home instead of Iris or Wally,” Barry said, his green eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Joe as he pulled at the restraints keeping him to the chair, willing them to break.

“Barry, although I am grateful they’re safe, you being here is not favorable. Powers or no powers.,” Joe shook his head, surprised by Barry’s words. “You’re not third on my list. Just because you’re not my flesh and blood doesn't make me grateful it was you and not them.”

The young man was tired, sick and in pain and Joe knew he wasn’t of clear and sound mind right now but Joe also knew, or he thought he knew, that Barry believed how much Joe cared for him.

“Barry, please tell me you know that,” Joe spoke strong, heartbroken for the young man, a boy who’d seen so much tragedy, who was loved so deeply, to think so little of himself. “Barry, tell me you know that.”

“Joe…“ Barry looked up at Joe, half-lidded eyes damp with sickness and pain. What Joe saw past that, however, was the self-doubt and defeat that had a bad habit of shining through both the eyes of Barry Allen or The Flash and it pained Joe. 

“No, Barry,” Joe whispered sternly. They didn’t have much time as he heard the footsteps returning to where they still sat bound, staring into Barry’s eyes as he desperately willed the boy to understand. “Tell me you know your well-being is not third on my list.”

Barry went to respond but didn’t have the chance though as Cal returned to stand behind him and reached a hand to clamp over Barry’s mouth.

“It’s not nice to lie to the boy, West,” Cal sneered as he pressed his hand tighter against Barry’s mouth, making the skin underneath his hand white. “I mean, it is a damn shame your real kids couldn’t be here for the fun but the bastard kid is sufficing nicely, wouldn’t you say Barry?”

“Hansen, please,” Joe sighed as the man brought the wadded up handkerchief from earlier up to Barry’s lips. Cal didn't acknowledge him as he shifted the hand that covered Barry’s mouth and moved to grab his chin, squeezing until he forced his mouth open, and with the other hand stuffed the cloth into Barry’s mouth. 

“Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is Barry?” Cal asked as he prodded the cloth into Barry’s mouth, his jaws distending around the handkerchief, tufts of it thrusting out between his lips. “I mean based on how you wouldn’t shut up about Joe it’s clear you’re a victim of it.”

“Nnnggg,” Barry’s protests were choked off. Before he could attempt to spit out the cloth, Cal came to stand in front of him and folded the scarf in half once more.

“It’s when feelings of trust or affection are felt in certain cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor. Or in your case, the cop that locked your dad up. The cop that took you in because you had no one, who made you believe he was your savior,” Cal spoke, bending close to Barry, staring at him menacingly with a sadistic kind of smirk, Cal pressed the middle of the folded scarf against the cloth already stuffed in his mouth, forcing the gag in deeper. Barry cursed behind the tight fabric, glaring at Cal, jerking at the bindings that held him as Cal pulled the scarf hard between his lips, dragging the ends back to knot them tight at the base of his skull.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that we’re family?” Joe questioned, biting down a curse directed at their captor as he watched Barry wince when Cal gave him a light slap on the cheek after tightening the scarf. 

“Why did you take him in, West? Was it guilt?” Cal asked, ignoring Joe’s question, moving to lean back against the table’s edge between where Joe and Barry were forced to sit.

“He was my daughter’s best friend. He had no grandparents, no uncles or aunts. He needed a home after losing his mother and...” Joe trailed off, Barry looking at him with a watery gaze.

“After you took his father away from him," Cal’s eyes were on Barry as he spoke to Joe. “You pitied him.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Joe spoke up, angry at having to play this crazy man’s game, desperate to try to keep Barry from getting hurt further. But as Cal got up to move back behind Barry, Joe saw the knife handle peeking out of the back of his waistband where his gun was also settled. Something told Joe it didn’t matter what he said. 

Cal stood beside Barry, pulling the paring knife from his belt to hold in his hand. It was a small blade, no more than four inches in length, but it didn’t have to be a big knife to hurt. Barry moaned in pain when the hand reached behind and grabbed him by the hair again, wrenching his head back. Barry’s breath hitched as he saw the object come into his line of sight.

“Hansen, you don’t have to do this!” Joe begged as Cal placed the cold metallic flat against Barry’s face, running softly down over his gagged mouth and held the edge against his exposed throat. “Please leave my son alone!”

“He is not your son! You can’t love him, not like I loved my father. He was my blood!” Cal shouted back, releasing his hold on Barry as he pointed at Joe with the blade. He crossed in front of Barry’ chair to move closer to Joe who was straining against the bindings, arms flexing against the plastic ties, unaware and uncaring that his wrists started to bleed from the friction.

“Cal, I know how much you loved your father,” Joe spoke as Cal hovered over him, saying anything he could to keep his attention on him rather than Barry. “Please, know that I am truly sorry for your loss and I wish things had turned out differently for you and your father. But I love Barry. I raised him for more than half of his life. He’s my kid and I’m his dad and I know you know what that family love means. Please just let him go.”

Cal held the knife in front of Joe’s face before slicing down Joe’s straining left bicep, cutting through the shirt and dragging the blade down the dark skin of the restrained man. Joe bit back a scream, gritting his teeth, refusing to give the man the satisfaction. 

“I can’t. You have to pay,” Cal said as turned his back on Joe. Joe’s victory of drawing Cal to him and away from his son was short lived as Cal moved back over to Barry. “I’m sorry to have to hurt this kid but he needs to know you’re not his savior. You’re not his father and you can’t save him. This is your fault detective, remember that.” 

As Cal spoke he reached a hand behind Barry’s head and threaded his fingers through Barry’s hair once more, pulling back hard and forcing Barry to look up at him. The blade returned in front of Barry, still dripping with Joe’s blood. With the grip in his hair holding his head still, Cal placed the tip of the blade at his right cheek and dragged it gently down till the cloth tied over his mouth prevented him from cutting any further. Barry yelled behind the gag in pain, panting as the blood ran down the side of his face. 

“Tell me, Detective. Did you ever regret taking him in,” Cal hovered over Barry, cold gray eyes staring into Barry’s pain filled green ones, hand still laced in Barry’s hair, waving the knife around his face as he addressed Joe. 

“Never,” Joe didn’t hesitate. Cal smirked at Barry before dragging the tip of the blade from the curvature of Barry’s collarbone, over his heart, just enough pressure to tear through the t-shirt as he moved it diagonally down across his chest till he hit the zip tie restraining him to the back of the chair. Barry screamed as the shallow cut was made, biting hard on the cloth in his mouth.

“Let’s try this again, West. And tell the truth this time,” pulling away from Barry, Cal turned to stare at Joe, holding the knife out. 

“It is the truth!” Joe snarled. “Were there times that it was a lot? Of course! I couldn’t understand his pain and I was a single father. But not once did I regret taking him in. He’s my son as much as he would be if he was my blood.” 

Cal said nothing, seemingly infuriated by Joe’s answer. Without a word, he sliced at Joe’s left forearm, this time Joe unable to suppress the yell. Breathing through his own pain from the cut, Joe matched Cal’s stare. As Cal moved towards him to cut again, they were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing from Joe’s pants pocket.

Cal reached into the front pocket of Joe’s pants, pulling out the phone to reveal Iris’ picture on the screen just as the phone ceased ringing, the image disappeared. There was a minute of silence before the phone sprang to life again, Iris calling for a second time.

“Please. It’s my daughter. It’s supposed to be movie night with my kids and a few friends. If I don’t answer she’ll try Barry’s phone, then the house phone, and then will get worried and call my Captain,” Joe tried to reason with him as he stared at the phone with Iris’ picture on the screen as she tried to call.

“Fine. But don’t try anything stupid,” Cal said, putting the knife down onto the table, he stretched his arm behind his back, grabbing the pistol from his waistband and pointed the gun back at Barry’s temple. Barry’s eyes closed reactively as the cold barrel pressed his forehead. Cal pressed the answer button on the screen and held the phone to Joe’s ear.

“Hey, Iris,” Joe kept his voice steady, void of the anxiety he felt by now involving his daughter and the gun pointed at Barry. 

“Way to take your time, Dad,” he could hear Iris’ smile through the phone. 

“I’m sorry, Honey Bear. I was making soup for Bee.” The long pause at the other end of the phone told Joe that Iris had gotten the signal.

“Dad, it’s okay. How’s your day? How’s Barry?” She asked, voice steady.

"So far, so good. Listen, I’m gonna have to cancel movie night tonight. Barry is sick and not getting any better. I don’t want you to get sick too.” 

“You’re such a protective Papa Bear,” Iris answered and Joe bit back the sigh of relief.

“Pass on my apologies to the crew and let David know he gets first pick next time.” 

“I will. Tell Bee to hang in there. I love you both.”

“I love you more,” Joe said. He sighed as the call disconnected, Cal, tossing his phone onto the table. 

“Perfect. Now we can return to our fun,” Cal smiled at Barry and Joe, dropping the gun onto the table and picking up the knife once more. Cal pressed the flat sides of the knife against Joe’s gash on his arm, coating the blade in Joe’s blood. “Now where were we?”

They barely had a moment to register as Cal turned and buried the blade in Barry’s left hip, Barry crying out in pain.

“NO!” Joe screamed as Cal twisted the blade a slow quarter turn, Barry pleading unintelligibly behind the gag for it to stop. Cal just smiled at him before yanking out the knife. 

“Now, he’s got your blood.”


	3. The weight of your world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just remember the weight of your world's  
> Only resting on me

"I didn't realize tonight was movie night?" Cisco looked up to Iris as she ended the phone call. She had stopped by S.T.A.R. Labs after work to see how the hologram-Flash idea was coming along so she could give some good news to Barry tonight. After Barry hadn't answered her texts, she tried her Dad to see if he'd heard from him. She had not been expecting the conversation to go the way it did though.

"It's not," Iris said, holding her phone to her chin as she thought, before turning on her heel to exit the cortex. "We have to call Captain Singh."

"Why?" Cisco called out, grabbing his coat from the nearby chair before chasing after her as she left.

"My dad called me Honey Bear," Iris said as she pressed the elevator button, staring at the door.

"I don't know if that's a reportable offense, Iris. I mean its kind of an adorable nickname," Cisco scratched his head, as they entered the lift and made their way towards the surface. He watched with curiosity as Iris called the Captain, informing Singh that her father and Barry were in trouble, pleading with him to rush to the West home.

"Iris, what's going on?" Cisco asked as she hung up.

"It's code," Iris said, turning to face Cisco. "When we were kids the son of one of the cops my dad worked with was kidnapped. Anytime the kidnapper called for ransom demands the child could never give her anything helpful to work with to find him because he was too afraid of making the kidnapper angry. The child was missing for two weeks before they found him."

"That's awful."

"So when we were kids, my Dad came up with some codes for us to use so we could alert each other we were in danger. We went with nicknames we never use. Mine was Honey Bear, Dad's was Papa Bear, and Barry was Bee."

"That's really smart," Cisco followed Iris out of the elevator as they reached the main level.

"He said you have to make every word count. Dad used my nickname to let me know that he's in trouble, and used Barry's to let me know that Barry was with him. He also said that Barry is sick and he didn't want me getting sick too."

"But we all already know Barry's sick."

"I think he means that Barry's hurt and he doesn't want me to get hurt either. He told me to let David know, that he gets first pick…David is Captain Singh," Iris barely waited for Cisco to close the door to her car before speeding off out of the lot. "Dad wanted me to call in the cavalry first."

"First?" Cisco asked, quickly buckling as Iris made a sharp turn.

"Yeah. Because he knew I'd also come the minute I understood the message."

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

Barry grunted around the gag still shoved between his teeth, the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he was backhanded once more. Bound as he was to the chair, he couldn't even try to escape yet another slap, grunting in pain, eyes watering as Hansen's hand struck the cheek that he had previously gashed with the blade. He could hear Joe shouting, crying out for him to stop throughout the beating Cal had been inflicting on him.

Cal then punched Barry hard in the hip. Barry gasped in air through his nose, doubled over as in pain as far as the restraints would allow. Barry could feel the slow drip of blood down his hip from the wound. It was a small enough blade, narrow and not long, causing enough pain and internal damage without leaving a gaping wound that would result in Barry bleeding out too quickly. He was familiar enough with the sensation of cracked ribs to know that the few that been bruised from his encounter with Griffin Gray were now cracked.

"What do you think, West?" Cal called over to Joe as he bent over Barry, grabbing him by the chin, lifting his head and forcing Barry to stare at him. "Have you suffered enough? Or do we need to have a little more fun with Barry?"

"You sadistic prick," Joe didn't even try to hide the anger or emotions bubbling inside him. Joe had struggled in his bonds, rocking his body as much as he could within the confines of the restraints. Cal had gotten a few punches in on him too after stabbing Barry but quickly returned his attention to the young man. Joe's aging and battered body protested against the vigorous struggling but it didn't stop him from trying to break free.

"I think it's time to put the surrogate son out of his misery," Cal threw Barry's head back before moving away. Barry's head fell to his chest, hanging limply, the strength to hold it up gone.

Cal grabbed the knife, laughing as Joe shouted out to him, but Hansen surprised him when he used the knife to cut at first the zip tie that linked Barry's bound wrists to his knees. He then cut the two ties that stretched over Barry's chest and waist that had kept him restrained to the chair. Barry instantly slumped forward as they fell away, too weak to hold himself up. Cal caught him, one arm around Barry's back and the other linked in Barry's arm. He left the bindings that bound Barry's wrists in front of him, as well as the ones at his ankles and knees binding his legs together, and started to half carry, half drag Barry towards the stairs.

"Where are you going with him?!" Joe shouted. Cal paused, turning around to face where Joe was still struggling in the chair.

"I told you. I'm going to put Barry out of his misery. But we're going to do it where you can't be with him in his last moments. Just like I couldn't be with my father in his. Then I'm coming back to finish you." And with that, Cal threw Barry over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him up the stairs.

Joe had called after him, shouting anything he could to bring Cal back down, calling for Barry. He got no response. The air was heavy in silence for a few minutes, for what felt like forever to Joe.

And then a single gunshot echoed through the house.

Time had seemed to suspend. He'd heard the sound of gunshots countless times in his life, and he knew it was his own perception versus reality, but Joe would swear that shot was the loudest he'd ever heard. It felt as if the sound reverberated in his own body. Joe could feel his heart stop, could feel it break.

Gathering some sort of strength, he called out for Barry, unable to hide the despair in his voice or to stop the tears that rolled from his eyes as he was met with silence. A few moments later Cal descended down the stairs, a smile on his face as he approached the dining room table, Joe its only occupant now.

"Why," Joe cried, head shaking. It wasn't a question to Cal really. It was more to the universe. Why Barry? Why take Barry, his son, away from him after bringing Barry into his life in the first place. The boy was a hero, even before the Flash. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to suffer for something that was nothing but Joe's responsibility.

"I told you I would make you suffer. And now I have," Cal spoke low and angry, as he slowly approached the chair. "Your son was a means to an end. Your end."

Cal raised the gun to aim at Joe. Joe was unmoved by the barrel pointed at his heart or the disdain in the steel eyes that met the hate and anguish burning in Joe's brown ones.

Suddenly the door crashed open. Cal was quick to fire at the police that came running in but three uniformed cops rushed at him, followed by Captain Singh, wrestling Hansen to the ground. As the officers subdued the attacker, Captain Singh ran over to Joe, quickly pulling out his pocket knife.

"David, thank you," Joe whispered as his Captain worked at cutting him free.

"Lucky for you your daughter is so smart, Joe. And lucky for us we beat her here or I think she'd have stormed in before we could," David said as he cut the last binding free. He helped Joe to stand, steadying the other man before realizing something was missing. "Where's Allen?"

"David, when Iris gets here, keep her downstairs for now, please," Joe begged, a desperate hand grabbing Singh's shoulder with his uninjured right arm.

"Barry?" Singh asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Joe shook his head, "just keep her down here until I know." At David's nod, Joe darted past Singh and bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, despite the pain in his body. 

Joe ran down the hall, sock-clad feet slapping against the hardwood floor. He paused long enough in each doorway to search for Barry, moving past Wally's empty room, then Iris' old room, past Barry's and the bathroom until he skid at the end of the hall to his open bedroom door, and the breath he didn't know he was holding was released at the sight in front of him.

He had expected to see Barry lying dead in a pool of blood on the bed but almost collapsed in relief at the sight of the hunched figure on the floor seated up against the footboard. Barry sat propped up against the wood panel, his knees and ankles were still bound with the zip ties but his arms were pulled above his head with duct tape securing his bound wrists to the closest post of the footboard. A piece of duct tape was stretched over his eyes as well, blindfolding him. In the wall above the bed was a single bullet hole, shattering the glass of a hung framed picture of Joe, Iris, and Barry at Iris' sweet 16.

"Barry," Joe whispered, running over to the foot of the bed. He knelt down onto his knees onto the floor and rested one hand upon the barely conscious man's neck, feeling for a pulse, both relieved and worried to find one rapid but weak fluttering beneath his fingers.

As Barry felt the hands on him he instantly flinched, pushing himself back against the wood footboard behind him as much as he could and pulling at the tape binding him to the post, struggling to get away from the new presence. 

"Barr! It's alright, it's me!" Joe said, reaching up to hold Barry's face between his hands, tilting his head up and revealing the bruised and bloodied face of his son. Barry's struggling ceased at the sound of Joe's voice, leaning into the hand at his face.

Still cupping Barry's face with one hand, Joe used his other hand to peel away the duct tape from Barry's eyes as gently as he could. Barry blinked open his clenched eyes and sighed behind the gag at the sight of Joe, unable to stop the tears escaping.

"It's alright, Barr," he said softly. Joe supported Barry's head up with the one hand resting on the side of his neck and used the other to hook two fingers between the scarf and Barry's uninjured left cheek. He pulled it down from Barry's lips, letting the cloth hang around his neck. He grazed the bruised and cracked corners of Barry's lips and then reached into his mouth with his finger and thumb and pulled out the soaked handkerchief from between his teeth.

"Joe," Barry couldn't stop the sob of relief that escaped from his now free mouth. He was unable to stifle a cough at the dryness of his throat between having been gagged for so long and the virus still coursing through his body.

Joe reached up to tear away the duct tape binding his wrists to the post. As the tape came free Barry lowered his arms and surged towards Joe, fisting Joe's shirt in his still zip tie bound hands. Joe caught Barry as he slumped forward; one arm moving around the shivering young man's back, pulling Barry to his chest while the other moved to the back of Barry's head.

"He told me he was gonna kill you…heard a gunshot and yelling…I thought, I thought…" Barry's talking was fractured, heavy breathing and quiet as Joe and Barry clung to each other like life vests. Joe sat back on his heels, pulling Barry closer to him as he rocked him back and forth gently as they both allowed themselves to surrender to their mix of anguish and relief. His hand rubbed circles across Barry's shoulder and he could feel the heat radiating off Barry's fevered body, the illness and fear causing him to shake violently within Joe's embrace.

"I thought I lost you," Joe felt his own tears flow as well, his voice shaking in anger and grief. Barry's face was buried into Joe's chest, Joe's hand at the back of his head gently massing his scalp back and forth as he tried soothing himself by providing comfort to the young man gathered in his arms.

As his breathing calmed, Barry pulled away slowly, aware and uncaring that tears were still rolling down his cheeks. He could sense Joe was reluctant to ease his embrace. He pulled away only enough to hold Barry's face between both of his hands, cupping his cheeks.

"Oh, Barr," Joe sighed as he looked at his son. Barry was pale, dried blood painted his face from the corners of his mouth and the left side of his face heavily streaked with blood from the wound he received at the hairline before Joe had even entered the house. His right cheek was stained with drying blood that had spilled from the knife cut.

"He said he wanted you to think I was dead before he killed-" Barry's words were interrupted by coughing, tears of pain rolling down his blood-stained cheeks. Joe moved one of his hands to stroke through Barry's hair, some strands caked with dried blood at the top of his head, the other hand slipping between Barry's still bound wrists and held tightly. Barry squeezed the hand between his two shaking ones tightly.

"Barr, hey. Shhhh, save your strength," Joe choked out, his own tears rolling down each cheek. Barry's head leaned into Joe's hand as he cupped his face, his thumb softly stroking Barry's cheeks, his breathing becoming shallow and labored as he continued to cough.

"Help! I need help up here!" Joe shouted over his shoulder as the realization of their situation broke through the overwhelming relief of finding Barry alive. "He's up here, he needs help!" He immediately heard footsteps below him heading up the stairs and Iris and Singh calling out for Joe.

"Let's get you outta these." Joe slowly pulled his hand away from Barry's face, allowing his son a little time to gain the strength to keep himself upright. He ran over to the dresser against the nearby wall and retrieved his pocket knife from the small top drawer before kneeling back down in front of Barry. He cut the ankle and knee bindings first. He then moved to Barry's wrists which were slick with blood from struggling, the band of the watch that Joe had gifted Barry this past Christmas stained red. The zip ties had tightened considerably from Barry's struggling during their captivity and were deeply embedded in Barry's flesh. Joe had to be very careful where he cut to avoid slipping and hurting him further. As the plastic snapped, Barry cried out as the sudden tension released around his wrists and sent shock waves of pain through his arms.

Captain Singh and Iris came bounding down the hall and ran over as Joe caught Barry by the shoulders as he started to fall forward.

"Barry!" Iris exclaimed as she moved to the right side of her father to kneel beside Barry.

"Watch his hip!" Joe warned.

"We need those paramedics here now!" Captain Singh ran to the doorway, yelling out into the hall before turning to face the small group huddled around Barry.

"It's okay. It's okay," Iris whispered as she moved closer to Barry, supporting him up against the footboard, replacing her father as he moved to stand. First, she reached behind Barry's head and unknotted the stained and damp scarf, pulling it away from his neck and throwing the offending makeshift gag to the floor. She rested one hand atop his hot forehead, gentle fingers threading through his hair as she steadied him by the shoulder with her other hand. "Barry, you're safe now. We're going to get you help."

"Iris," Barry sighed, nodding and taking comfort in her presence as she supported his weight. Iris could see the pain in his face, the shivering of his body as he tried to say something. But nothing came out, his breathing sounded scratchy and shallow. 

"Hang in there, Barr," Joe said in desperation as Barry's eyes closed as he leaned into Iris' touch.

"Joe," Singh interrupted the father's worried ministrations. Joe reluctantly shifted his gaze from his son to David as he motioned for Joe to step away so they could talk.

"Hansen?" Joe asked, crossing the room to stand by David.

"The uniforms are going to take him down to the precinct where he'll be locked up waiting to be interrogated."

"I want in on it, David," Joe said.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Joe," Singh shook his head, "You should go with Barry to the hospital. He needs you there. Not to mention you need to get checked out yourself."

"That bastard hurt my son, David!" Joe wanted to say more but their attention was caught by the flurry of sounds coming from downstairs, Cisco's voice guiding the paramedics on where to go as they made their way through the house. Suddenly, Barry moaned as a wave of intense pain consumed him.

"Barry!" Iris shouted, gripping Barry's arm. He let out another cry and a pain filled moan, clenching his eyes closed. Joe and Singh rushed over, their concern for the young man intensifying as a violent cough caused Barry's whole body to spasm, his hand reaching up to grip at his chest as he struggled to breathe, fingers clenching at the fabric of his blood-stained t-shirt.

"Barry, hang on, son. Just hang on!" Joe was frantic as David pulled him out of the way so the medics could do their work. His heart nearly froze as he watched Barry's body convulse as he coughed violently, small droplets of blood staining the mucus he coughed up.

The EMT's set to work, grabbing Barry's body and gently but quickly started to maneuver him onto the stretcher, one efficiently attaching electrodes to Barry's chest, monitoring his heart, another affixing an oxygen mask over his mouth as they lifted the stretcher and rushed down the stairs, followed closely by Iris, Cisco, Joe and Captain Sing. David went over to the officers, Iris, Cisco, and Joe followed behind the stretcher as they moved Barry outside the house and into the awaiting ambulance.

"Shouldn't we be taking him to S.T.A.R.?" Cisco asked. "I mean I know we don't have Caitlin but…"

"There's no Speed Force in his body. He doesn't have his rapid healing so he can be treated by regular doctors without any questions being asked," Joe answered in a hushed voice. "Iris, go with Barry in the ambulance. I'll be right behind you," Joe patted his daughter on the arm, Iris nodding before she climbed in after the paramedics, sitting on the side, gripping Barry's hand as the paramedics worked, the ambulance doors closing behind them.

"Joe, go to the hospital with your kids, that's an order," David instructed as he came over to where Cisco and Joe watched the ambulance take off.

"Five minutes with Hansen, David, then I'll have Cisco take me to the hospital," Joe wasn't really asking Singh, Cisco watching the exchange.

"Five minutes," David said, leading Joe over to the squad car and opening the door so Joe could address Hansen.

"You really thought I shot him didn't you?" Cal smiled up at Joe, laughing. David and Cisco each laying grounding hands on Joe's arms to keep him from attacking the man in custody. "You should have seen your face."

"Why?"

"I told you. My goal was to make you suffer and then kill you," Cal spat out. "Your bastard kid just provided a fun way to do that."

"You went too far. He was barely breathing when they took him away," Joe shrugged off the hands holding him back, grabbing the collar of the man cuffed in the back seat of the car.

"Then you better go before you miss the chance to say your goodbyes," Cal sneered. "Like I did."

"I'm sorry you lost him, but he made his choices. And so have you. This is on you. If that boy dies, there is not a cell strong enough in Iron Heights to save you," Joe moved in real close so Cal couldn't just hear his words, but feel his anger.

"That a threat, Detective?" Cal flinched.

"No, that's a promise. A father's promise," Joe shoved the man before releasing his grip, slamming the car door shut. "Okay, Cisco. Let's go."

____________________________________________________________________

 

"Barry, just hang in there," Iris pleaded behind the lump in her throat, feeling the stinging in her eyes of fearful tears. Despite all the flurry of activity around him, medics shouting numbers and names of drugs, Barry's eyes stayed locked onto hers, his hand holding onto Iris' as tightly as he could in his lax grasp as they guided the stretcher into the Emergency entrance of Central City General Hospital.

"B.P. sixty over forty and falling," one called out to the other paramedics.

"Barry you have to stay with me," Iris called out to Barry.

"Ok, what do we got?" a doctor appeared by the gurney side as they rushed down the hall, an EMT filling him on the numbers and details of his vitals. "What's his temp?"

"Came in at 103," one of the medics responded. "Mid-twenties. Stab wound to left lateral pelvis, a superficial gash running from the clavicle across the chest, trauma to the torso."

"Okay, start I.V, hundred cc's of methicillin," the doctor continued to prattle off instructions until they reached the emergency room. The medics wheeled Barry past the doors into the emergency room, forcing Iris and Barry's grasp on each other's hands to break. The doors closed behind the gurney and the doctor turned to face Iris.

"Ok, I need to know what we're dealing with. What happened?" the doctor addressed Iris.

"His name is Barry Allen," Iris responded. "He and my father work for the CCPD and were held hostage in our home. My father said he was beaten pretty badly."

"Anything I need to know about Mr. Allen?"

"He was suffering from a sinus infection the past few days before all this," Iris supplied. "And his ribs were bruised last week after he…he took a bad spill down the stairs."

"Ok," the doctor nodded, none the wiser of Iris' lie about how he came to have bruised ribs. "I'll be out with an update when I can." With that, the doctor pushed his way into the ER, leaving Iris standing there alone.

She couldn't help but be transported to that night Barry was struck by lightning, left behind swinging doors and the doctors working to bring Barry back to life. She was powerless to help as one of the people she loved most in this world was in pain, forced to just watch and wait.


	4. I will never run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will never run you away  
> I will never run

It had been four hours since Barry had been taken to Central City General Hospital, his family gathered in the waiting room since. Cisco had resorted to reading some home improvement magazine, Iris was at the nurses' station, and Jesse was texting her father who couldn't be there even though he wanted to thanks to his infamous face. Joe was satisfied with consistent twitching of his legs, his recently bandaged arm draped over his knees, constantly fidgeting his hands. His gaze was transfixed ahead, staring at the swinging doors of the ER ward, daring them to open and the doctor to come to talk to them. Wally just sat next to him, Joe completely unaware that Wally was intently watching his fidgeting.

"Barry's tough, Dad," Wally spoke up. "I mean you told me he survived a lightning bolt. He'll make it through this."

"I know. Thanks, Wally," Joe sighed, hanging his head, before sitting back in the chair, reaching a hand out to grab hold of his son's. Nothing else was spoken between them.

Finally, the doctor in full surgery garb walked through the doors, pulling at the surgical mask as he came out. A nurse followed behind him, handing him a clipboard as they headed towards the band of people waiting for word on Barry. They all stopped what they were doing and stood as the doctor approached.

"Doctor?" Joe asked first, anxious for news on the young man. The doctor took a deep breath, closing the clipboard.

"Mr. Allen is a lucky young man," he paused to let the instantaneous relief set in, watching all of their faces relax as Iris grabbed Joe's arm and Jesse grabbed Cisco in a quick hug.

"How is he?" Joe asked, all of them listening intently.

"He had four bruised ribs, three cracked. He is very lucky the fractured ribs did not lead to pneumothorax. The stab wound to his pelvis perforated his small intestine. It was thankfully a small hole and we were able to stitch up the wound without complications. He lost quite a bit of blood from his wounds and we're transfusing him now. The cut on his chest required stitches and we had to treat the infected welts on his wrists. They were almost rubbed raw to the bone."

"He was in so much pain when we found him," Iris said softly. Joe couldn't help rub a hand over his eyes. Even though he witnessed Barry's abuse, hearing it listed and being back in this hospital wracked his already on edge nerves. Iris wrapped her arms around her father, side hugging him, knowing the emotions he was feeling.

"Due to the infection in his sinuses and the fractured ribs it hindered Mr. Allen from being able to breathe properly and he has developed pneumonia in his right lung. We were able to drain the fluid and he's receiving oxygen therapy through a non‐invasive ventilation mask but he's got a fever that we're monitoring and pumping him with antibiotics. His immune system is compromised because of his injuries so we have to keep a watchful eye to avoid complications."

"Thank you," Joe said.

"Look," the doctor spoke to them, his tone relaxing slightly as he looked at that gathered crowd. "I know it sounds bad but we have it under control. And your son, your friend, I can tell he's a fighter. His body is fighting hard and winning. He's not out of the woods yet, but he's stable. He's in ICU right now."

"Can we see him?" Cisco asked anxiously. Despite the reassuring words from the doctor, he needed to see for himself, like they all did, that Barry was still with them.

"He's going to be unconscious for a while. You're free to see him together now briefly and family can sit with him during his recovery. Third room down on the left." They nodded their thanks and made their way down the hall while Jesse stayed behind to talk to the doctor.

Reaching the room, they saw the unmistakable form of Barry Allen lying there completely still in bed with wires and machines surrounding him. Cisco was the first to enter, approaching the bed cautiously. Cisco wasn't sure if it was out of fear of disturbing his friend's slumber or simply out of the shock of how frail Barry actually looked. Sans the bruises and cuts, he looked much like he did when they first brought him to STAR Labs to try to save his life after the lightning strike.

Joe hovered over the bed, memorizing every detail of the young man, his son, allowing the image to sink in. Barry had an IV hooked up to each hand, the one on his left was transfusing blood while the right hand was hooked up to clear liquids that were nourishing Barry's body and providing him with the antibiotics and all the necessities that would aid in his recovery.

Barry's head was tilted slightly to the side on his pillow towards them. His lower face was obscured by a clear oxygen mask that covered his mouth and nose, two pairs of straps that stretched across his cheeks securing it in place. The blue tube that emerged from the mask and connected to the ventilator was a sight too familiar for Joe. At least with the mask providing oxygen to Barry, he was spared the jarring image of the invasive tube sticking out of from son's throat. It was almost three years ago he walked into this same hospital, a room much like this one, and had to watch his son fight for his life.

Joe noticed the leads attached to Barry's chest to monitor his heart as he watched the steady rise and fall of his chest in perfect timing with the hiss of the respirator. Barry's face was pale and drawn; his fever-flushed cheeks the only color. A white bandage covered the gash on the temple Joe learned was from when he was pistol-whipped into unconsciousness when Cal Hansen first entered their home. Butterfly bandages covered the gash on his right cheek and the split lip blazed red beneath the clear mask.

The blankets were pulled up to the mid-section of Barry's chest. The plunging neckline of the scrubs shirt revealed the top of the wrappings he was sure covered Barry from his chest to his waist, not only wrapping the ribs but covering the cut across his upper chest. The corner of a white bandage at his clavicle was visible at the edge of the shirt and both his wrists were wrapped in gauze. The last thing Joe took notice of was the pads attached to Barry's temples. Wires from them led to a machine that would monitor Barry's brain activity. The active lines on the screen brought comfort to Joe, reassuring him that despite all of this on the outside, his son was still in there.

Iris wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, ridding the errant tears that had escaped as she made her way around Barry's bed. She grabbed the chair to the right of the bed and pulled it close. Settling herself in, she tried to get as comfortable as she could. She reached for his hand, holding it gently in hers as she lifted it to her lips and placed a small kiss on the back of his hand.

"I've spoken to the doctor," Jesse said as she entered the room. "He's wavering the visiting hours 'for family only' rule. I explained to him what family meant in this case to Barry and he agreed that us being with him here is essential to Barry's healing process after what he went through."

"That's good. That's really good," Cisco expressed. "Barry needs this as much as we all do."

"I'm gonna go back to the house," Wally turned to Joe, "pack some things for Barry, you and Iris and bring it back."

"Thanks, Wally," Joe gave Wally a strong, grateful hug before the young man left.

The following morning, ten hours later found Joe sitting in the chair beside Barry's bed. It was late into the night and all that remained in the room was the young man lying in the hospital bed and himself. Wally had returned and stayed for a while before Joe kicked the young man out, instructing him to take Jesse, who had fallen asleep, back to STAR Labs. Cisco had been a harder man to kick out, alternating between pacing and checking Barry's charts. He was used to sitting vigil on Barry, from the early days of Barry's coma to the many nights in the medbay as Barry recovered from injuries sustained by the Flash. He usually had the comforting and knowledgeable presence of Caitlin; without her, Cisco felt at a loss of how to help. Iris went home to get a few hours of sleep with a promise to return and a threat that when she did, Joe would have to give up his seat.

Captain Singh had called to check in and was able to piece the last few minutes of their captivity together before they were rescued from Hansen's interrogation. After taking Barry upstairs he'd restrained him in Joe's bedroom and shot the wall with the intention of not only frightening a blindfolded Barry but to make Joe believe Barry had been shot. He'd informed Barry that the next bullet was intended for Joe and then he would take his own life, leaving Barry alone to bleed out or be rescued, whatever came first. Breaking and entering, two counts of aggravated assault and first-degree attempted murder, Hansen would be in jail for a long time.

Joe knew he should be resting after all he'd been through today, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Barry's side.

"Barry," Joe spoke quietly. "time to wake up son." Joe squeezed Barry's left hand, gentle but solid, hoping Barry could feel it and know he wasn't alone as he slept. Joe leaned his other arm on the chair armrest and brought his hand to face, scrubbing it over his eyes, before resting his chin on it. Staying like that, head propped up one hand, Barry's held tightly in the other, Joe lost track of time; forgot about sleep, forgot about Zoom, forgot about super speed. All he could focus on was his son.

"Dad?" Seemingly out of nowhere, a voice interrupted his trance. Joe looked up to see Iris standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Baby," Joe greeted, voice tired.

"Dad, you haven't moved since I left?" Iris asked, handing her father a cup of coffee. The feeling of deja vu struck her hard; of finding her father dozing in a chair beside Barry's bed as he lay in a coma, handing him a cup of coffee he wouldn't drink. She couldn't help but look up, almost expecting Barry to break out into a seizure. But he didn't. His chest rose and fell as the heart monitors beeped in a steady, comforting rhythm.

"I don't want to leave him," Joe nodded his thanks as he accepted the coffee.

"Dad, Hansen didn't let you off easy. You may not be in a hospital bed but you need your rest too."

Joe just nodded, not saying anything. Iris watched as he didn't take a sip of the hot beverage in his hands, instead just nursing the to-go cup, bandaged arms peeking out of the sleeves of his sweater, eyes fixated on a spot somewhere on the lid that Iris knew he wasn't really focusing on.

"Dad," she laid a hand on his shoulder, "talk to me."

"Something he said," Joe's voice was barely above a whisper, "I can't get outta my head."

"Daddy, you can't take anything that bastard said to heart," Iris squeezed the shoulder beneath her hand, willing her father to look up at her. Instead, Joe sighed, placing the untouched cup on the bedside table to the right of his chair.

"No, it was something Barry said," he spoke, voice strained as his gaze shifted to the pale hand that lay limp in Joe's own atop the mattress. "He said to me that at least it was him that was home instead of you or Wally; like how somehow his pain and suffering was more favorable than yours."

"Dad, you know Barry. He always puts everyone's well-being ahead of his," Iris rubbed slow circles across her Dad's back as she spoke. "Or maybe he just meant because unfortunately as the Flash he's more used to trouble like that than me or Wally."

"Maybe," Joe finally looked up his daughter. "But I can't bear the thought that he doesn't truly know just how important he is to me. I need him to understand that he's my son as much as Wally, as much my child as you. That it's a father's love."

"Dad, Barry knows," Iris' heart broke watching her father swallow down tears. She knew he was still shaken at the thought of almost losing Barry; that with Barry's powers not in play Joe was feeling powerless to help the young man.

"When's the last time I told him how important he was to me? I gave him the watch at Christmas but maybe I didn't say enough. I mean he knows what we mean to each other, what our family we've created means to each other but maybe I haven't said it enough lately. With everything we deal with daily, with everything he's been through, not just as the Flash but as Barry, maybe all the good gets lost in the white noise of the constant chaos that's become his life."

Iris wanted to interject but the lost look in her father's eyes as he watched the slow aided rise and fall of Barry's chest from the bed told her he wouldn't hear just yet.

"It wasn't just his words, Iris. Do you ever notice some of the things he says or does sometimes? His self-doubt, this self-defeat and almost overall feeling of unworthiness. He knows how smart he is, how extraordinary he is but I think he doesn't deem it nearly as special as what getting struck by that lightning did to him. It doesn't matter how much he's done or how many people he's saved. But it's not surprising, is it? His mother died in front of him when he was 11, deals with that tragedy his whole life and then is burdened with guilt because he finds out the man that killed her was actually there to kill him. His father gets sent to prison for most of Barry's life and when he finally gets free after Barry dedicates most of his life to get him out, he takes off, leaving Barry behind again. And he's told me that every time he gets a win he feels like he loses. It's all too much for any person, to lose like that."

"So remind him what he has," Iris said as she reached into her purse and pulled out a small parcel, handing it to her father. He finally looked up at her, accepting the small paper-wrapped package, unwrapping it to reveal the watch Joe had passed on to Barry.

"The orderly gave me Barry's belongings before I left for home. His clothes were stained, I had to toss the shredded t-shirt. But I had the watch professionally cleaned after I left last night and picked it up on my way here this morning," Iris provided as she watched her father run fingers over the pristine glass face and leather of the band of the watch his own father had given him when he was a young man. He had a sad smile on his face that was quickly replaced with a tearful expression.

"Dad, think how long it took Barry to settle with us, to feel like he could be completely open and honest and safe. Despite all our pain and loss, somehow the three of us forged something special, deeper than just father and daughter or friendship or guardianship. We became a team. We made each other a family and a home. We know what we mean to each other. And maybe you're right, maybe we should express it more, especially with Barry who seems to forget how wonderful he is. It doesn't matter how many lives he's saved, how many lives he's changed, he's still that lost boy who got left behind. And now he's lost another part of him, his speed which made him feel whole. So we have to remind him that he's still whole with us."

"This is my fault, Iris," Joe whispered.

"Daddy, it's not," Iris moved between the bed and her father's chair, kneeling down in front of Joe.

"That man came into my home, into our home, looking for me and took his anger out on Barry. What if you hadn't called-"

"Dad, stop it," She braced her hands on her father's shoulder. He reached his left hand up to grip her hand, the other still holding onto Barry's atop the bed.

"Now you listen to me," Iris spoke sternly, "None of this is your fault. The only one who can take responsibility for this is that scumbag. He hurt Barry. He hurt you. Do not forget that. Let go of your guilt."

"I can't," Joe spoke quietly, breathing hard around his anger and anguish.

"You have to," Iris lowered her voice, but still keeping that stern quality. "You have to because Barry needs you to be strong for him. And you can't do that if you're feeling guilty. We will get through this together, just like the three of us always have. And now we have even more family by our side too."

She moved a hand to rest atop her father's that still held tight to Barry's, eyes locked onto her father's as he nodded, both of their tears falling. Before anything else could be said they both were startled at the feeling of movement beneath their hands. Shifting their eyes they watched as pale fingers twitched and loosely started to curl around Joe's.

 

___________________________________

 

"This is gonna sound strange, but I forgot how awesome painkillers are," Barry smiled a dopey grin at Iris, who was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him as he fidgets with the tubing of the nasal cannula feeding him oxygen until he accidentally pulled it down from where it had been hooked over his ear.

"You're right, it does sound strange," Cisco laughed from the chair to the left of the bed as he folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair, feet propped up on the mattress. Joe was seated in a chair on the other side of the bed and smiled slightly as Iris slapped Barry's hand away from the tubing, fixing it back to the way it was behind his ear. Barry just glared up at her playfully.

A week had gone by. Barry was seated up in bed, sipping at a cup of water that Iris thrust into his hand after slapping his hand away again from the nasal tubing. It had been a long, difficult week but Barry's condition had been progressing along quickly; for the doctors at least. For Barry, it was too slow. When he wasn't sleeping Barry had spent a good portion of his time in the hospital frustrated that he was confined to bed. Even without his speed he still processed time like a speedster; staying still, even while injured, was a special kind of torture. Not to mention he had become so accustomed to physical pain being temporary thanks to his rapid regenerative healing. On the positive side, however, he was also used to injuries being more painful since his metabolism burnt off all painkillers and now without his powers, he was granted the perk painkillers provided.

Tomorrow he was being released from the hospital and Barry was excited, to say the least. His friends and family kept reminding him that he had to rest when he got out of here, his body still recovering from the last lingering effects of pneumonia and the healing stab wound. Iris had forbidden Cisco of mentioning the completion of his hologram-Flash idea until Barry was at least a little further along in the healing process. Regardless, they were all in good spirits as they gathered around his bedside.

Iris looked at her father and saw that he was deep in thought. She knew he was still dealing with the guilt of what happened to Barry and their previous conversation was weighing heavily on his mind. Now that Barry was doing better and about to be released, she hoped her father would talk to Barry.

Before she could give much thought to how she could urge her father to initiate the conversation, a loud noise coming from Cisco's stomach stole the attention of the four people in the room.

"Dude!" Barry laughed.

"Okay, boys, Cisco and I are gonna go get something to eat," Iris laughed. "We'll be back soon." Iris grabbed Cisco by the arm and pulled him out of the room.

"Can we get pizza tomorrow when we get home?" Barry turned to Joe, the rumbling of Cisco's stomach reminding him of his own craving. The childlike eagerness brought a smile to Joe's face.

"Tired of the hospital food?" Joe asked.

"Tired of the hospital," Barry answered, fidgeting with the nasal cannula again.

"The doctor said you should be fully recovered in no time, as long as you don't push yourself too quickly," Joe said as sat up in the chair.

"Too quickly, that's funny," Barry nodded slowly, his focus somewhere else as he stared out the window of the hospital room.

"Barry, I didn't mean..." Joe sighed, looking at the young man. Barry turned his head to look back at Joe as his father moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.

"I know you didn't mean it like that Joe," Barry sighed as he dropped his hands to the blanket in his lap, idly playing with the edges of the bandages around his wrists. "I just have to adjust to life without my speed. Being in this hospital just reminds me of all of it; of how Caitlin is still missing, of how I can't fight the bad guys anymore. If Singh hadn't come with the cops when he did if Iris hadn't called when she did so you could give her the message…"

"Barry, stop," Joe said softly, interrupting. "Barry none of this is your fault. This one's on me."

"Joe-"

"Barry you were hurt, badly. If I lost you, I…" Joe paused then took a deep breath before continuing. "Barry you gave up your speed to save Wally."

"I'd do it again, Joe. I don't regret saving Wally," Barry quickly interjected.

"I know you don't. Because you're a hero," Joe placed a hand on Barry's blanket-covered leg. "But I need you to hear me. I know you know that I love you. You are my son, just like Wally, my child just like Iris. Not third, not last, not because you had to be because I'm your guardian, but because I love you."

Barry looked away again from Joe, emotions flickering across his face as Barry crinkled his brow and bit the inside of his cheek. Joe knew that Barry was feeling vulnerable without his abilities, but Joe also knew, was one of the few people who truly knew, how fragile Barry's self-worth was. Joe learned early on from social workers he sought for guidance on taking care of a child suffering a tragedy that losing both parents at an early age often puts children at a risk of losing their sense of self and self-worth. Joe knew that he and Iris being a constant presence in Barry's life after he lost everything, that helping him to process his experiences in a safe and loving environment, giving him all the love and support they could fostered a positive place for him to grow and heal through his tragedy and become his own person. But like all scars, they still had a part in the story and a fragile self-worth was one of Barry's. Sometimes outpouring of affection and pride was difficult for the young man to take without feeling overwhelmed.

"I've never regretted for one minute taking you in. I regret you not being able to grow up with your real father but I do not ever regret being given the opportunity to be another one for you. Not when you were angry and would try to run away, not when you were devastated and struggling to deal. It was tough, for both of us, for the three of us, but we became a family. We saved each other. We'll always save each other."

Barry finally looked back at Joe, his gaze watery, brow furrowed. Joe could see the tears building up in his eyes, but Barry seemed to be in control of them, willing them not to fall down his cheek.

"Joe, I know. I think I've just been feeling lost without my powers. When I said…I just meant that I'd rather it be me instead of Iris or Wally or you. And not because they can't take it or because I'm used to getting knocked around, but because I never want to see anyone I love hurt." As Barry spoke he reached for the hand resting on his blanket covered leg and gripped it tight. "I know how much you love me, Joe, I feel the same way. We're a family. It's just still hard sometimes when I'm reminded that I don't actually belong to you. But I know you care for me like a son."

Joe leaned forward, placing a strong but gentle hand at the back of Barry's neck. He lined his face right up to Barry's, just inches apart. Barry moved a hand to clasp the forearm beside his face.

"Look at me, Barr," he whispered, Barry meeting his gaze. "Not like a son, you are my son. You do belong. You were chosen. You were wanted. You are in my heart, you are my son, and you are loved."

Barry swiped at his cheek with his palm and then used the back to wipe at the tears rolling from his chin, catching the tears as they fell. Joe kept his hand at the base of Barry's neck but with his free hand, pulled something from his pocket and slid it into Barry's hand atop his blanket lap. Barry looked down at what Joe had handed him and smiled at the watch, running his thumb over the pristine face, as elated and overwhelmed as he was the first time Joe had given him the heirloom.

"They came to see," Barry said, voice tight and strained from the effort to avoid more tars as he spoke as he looked at the watch, "that family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood but for those whom they would give their blood."

"Dickens," Joe said after a long pause, ruffling the back of Barry's hair. He smiled as Barry looked up at him in surprise with his own incredulous smile at Joe's recognition of the quote. Joe moved his hand to Barry's shoulder, giving it a playful shake. "What? You may be the smart guy in the family but you're not the only one who knows things."


End file.
